


In Darkness Stand Her Horns | En la oscuridad aguantar sus cuernos

by Lovelymayor



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Coming of Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelymayor/pseuds/Lovelymayor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Gazelle's origin story, from age 10 to her adulthood. Find out what inspired her to sing, why she is named Gazelle, and where she came from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn | Amanecer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second-ever fic. I would be very grateful for any comments!
> 
> Gazelle is my favorite character in Zootopia, and since there is so little information about her in the film, I felt it would be fun to write an origin story for her. For the most part, I am drawing inspiration from her voice actress, Shakira's origin. Many details are invented or changed, but there are also many similarities.
> 
> I want this to be an inspiring story, because Gazelle is an inspiring character!
> 
> Please note: though this story is written in English, I have chosen to have Spanish words throughout, not out of disrespect or to exploit the language, but to remind the reader that this story takes place in South America (or whatever it would be named in the Zootopia universe), and that the characters would all be speaking Spanish.

1989

Every month, Gazelle’s father would take her to the park, where orphans often slept. Colambia was struggling with a weak government, crime syndicates, and military groups along with guerrilla fighters, all vying to claim as much territory and control as they could. The result? Millions of displaced mammals, a struggling economy, and countless instances of mammal rights abuses. The Revolutionary Armed Predators of Colambia bitterly fought the influence of the National Liberation Prey, each espousing that their beliefs about governance were superior to the beliefs of those who governed the country itself. At least, that was the message. In truth, those who fought often fell victim to battle, fighting for no reason other than to fight.

In Burronquilla, the plunging economy left many without work, and many mammals had to leave the city or turn to odd jobs. Gazelle was one of the lucky ones; her mother and father hadn’t lost their jobs and could provide for her. Even so, the nine-year-old Gazelle couldn’t bear to imagine the lives of the orphans she saw. She was a small girl, her horns still budding. Large, brown eyes peeked out from under her fringe of thick blonde hair. Thin and delicate, she was often seen dressed in her school uniform. When not, her parents did what they could to provide dresses and skirts in bright colors for her, ideal in the hot climate.

It was a Thursday. Despite the sun, and the warmth of the tropical savanna climate, the feelings of helplessness and worry hung over the father and daughter pair. Her father showed her this not out of cruelty, but to instill in her a gratefulness for her life and, hopefully, a willingness to improve the lives of others. His hoof held hers as they walked through the park, not gawking, but appreciating the struggles of their fellow mammals. Throughout the park, predators and prey alike had been displaced, or kicked out of their homes, unable to pay. Many had emigrated to Burronquilla from more violent areas of the country.

“Gazelle, mamita, do you understand why I bring you here?” Papa asked, looking down at his young daughter. He led her down a path underneath the tall mahogany and oak trees that provided shade.

Gazelle nodded. She stuck close to him, not wanting to stand out as a girl who didn’t have to worry about from where her next meal would come. “Sí… Papa, they are suffering. I wish we had more money so that we could help them.”

Her father chuckled under his breath, warmly, at the feelings his daughter conveyed. “It is not just money that helps mammals, Gazelle. It is words, and ideas. All of the pesos in Colambia would not change the militants or the criminals. Words, Gazelle, and actions, these are more powerful than anything. If you speak words from your heart, you will do more than you ever dreamed possible.”

Gazelle understood enough to feel passionate about the issue. Her heart ached in sympathy despite the unnecessary nature of the feelings. It would be just as easy to ignore the plights of others, to live her life comfortably and not think of those who did not have the same means as her.

“Papá… When I grow up, when I’m all grown up like you and mama, I will help these mammals. I wanna help all mammals.” There was resolution in her voice. Decision. Despite the horrors of their war-torn country, her father knew somewhere in his heart that his Gazelle would make good on her promise.

* * *

 

Weeks later, life continued as it had. For Gazelle, that meant school and music lessons. The music lessons were her favorite; young children often didn’t have an appreciation for school, and she was no different. Dancing and singing were her favorite things, even if music teachers had admonished her for the vibrato in her voice. School was less fun. She knew she had to go, particularly because other children weren’t as lucky as her to be able to attend school. Despite this sense of responsibility, she acted up in class, humming and getting up at inappropriate times, daydreaming…

The school called her parents in, as ruler-based punishment didn’t seem to affect her hard little hooves. It was a large Catolic school situated in the western side of the enormous city. Only girls attended the school, and Gazelle did not know many boys her age. She only knew those in the neighborhood where she played, pretending to be una policía and stopping bad guys.

“Señor Mebarak, she’s always acting up in class, do you want her to grow up to be a clown or do you want her to be a nice wife and support a great man? Do her brothers and sisters act so badly?” The stern voice of the girl’s teacher, a grey-colored mare, hit her parent’s ears like slaps of unwelcome water. The two gazelles sat across from the woman at her desk in front of an empty classroom. It was the third such complaint from the teacher that month.

Gazelle’s mother Nydia stayed silent, eyes cast down, while her father spoke. “We tell her she must respect her teacher, but she is a strong-willed girl. She wants to do everything all the time. She- “

The mare interrupted him brusquely, her voice impatient. “Did you know that she was in a fight two days ago? She is a hoof full, this girl of yours! What are you telling her at home? That she can do things whenever she wants, wherever she wants?”

“No no no, we don’t teach her that, ay, Melhem tell her!” Nydia cried, voice shaking. Melhem patted her shoulder. He adjusted himself in his seat, trying not to get too upset – trying to hide it.

“We will have another talk with her. I’m so sorry for any trouble she’s caused. She has a lot of energy at this age, it is common of young gazelles.” Melhem tried to explain, to assume blame for his daughter. The mare frowned, adjusting her spectacles.

“Very well. But if gazelles have so much trouble sitting still in class, then perhaps gazelles will not be welcome at this school. Good day.” The mare snorted, shuffling her files together and sliding them back into her desk. She pushed her chair back and stood up, indicating with her body language that the two gazelles should leave. They understood, and, father holding mother with one arm, stood up to leave. As they trudged through the empty halls of the school for girls, they stayed silent for some time before talking to one another again.

“Meli, what do you think will happen to our Gazelle if she doesn’t do well in school? We can’t just let her sing her songs, dance, and expect her to be able to provide for herself, for her husband, for her children when she has them. She has to go to school, and…” Nydia was beside herself. She had been worried, crestfallen over her daughter’s apparent direction for the last few months, the age of ten seeming to bring about a change in the girl’s behavior in school.

Melhem sighed, one hoof in his pocket, the other around his wife. His ears flicked unconsciously. “We have to raise her the best we can, Nydia, we have to give her a good life. Keep her safe. One day she will be part of a new family. Let her enjoy her music and her dances; she’ll go crazy without them, and this will all even out soon enough. She’ll finish school and marry… Maybe a horse is not so bad? There aren’t many gazelles in Colambia.”

It was all they could do to hope.

* * *

 

Two days ago. The dark asphalt of the schoolyard shone with wavering heat, causing most mammals to take comfort in the shade. It was a hot day, even for the equatorial Burronquilla. There was nary a breeze coming from the Caribbean Sea, and the lack of clouds let the sun hit the city unhindered. It was afternoon, post lunch, and the children were feeling the agitation in the air. The tense atmosphere of political upheaval was all around them. Little did they know they were on the eve of a new constitution for Colambia.

But the squabbles of children were smaller, as much smaller as they were reflections of larger conflicts. A jaguarundi girl had been tossed on the pavement, her thighs aching from the tumble down. Around her an ewe, jenny, and mare were gathered, slinging horrific insults at the girl.

“Oye! Go back to the forest and hunt!” They yelled, threatening the feline, who began to cry. She rubbed at her eyes, mewling pitifully. No one thought to intervene, not even as they kicked at the smaller mammal and pulled at her uniform.

“Leave her alone!” A resolute voice rang out over the playground, reaching the ears of other girls just trying to mind their own business. “What are you doing this for?” It was Gazelle. She pushed herself between the three girls and the fourth, stamping her hoof in indignation.

“What do you want, belly-dancer girl? Uhh, we don’t like seeing her kind around our school? Because she’s a predator, and we’re prey, and predators and prey are not meant to be anywhere near each other! Don’t you know that’s what this war is all about? My mama told me.” The donkey girl replied, sneering at Gazelle.

Gazelle was unconvinced. She turned around, unafraid to leave her back exposed to the bullies, and bent down to help the jaguarundi up to her feet. “Look around you! There are so many predators here. I see predators almost every day. Just because your parents tell you they’re bad, you think it’s okay to hate them? And hurt them? They are mammals, the same as us. They don’t chase us, and they don’t eat us, and you’re the ones who are being… like monsters!” Gazelle shouted back at the group, her hooves balled into fists. The hesitation was evident in her voice.

It happened in an instant. The girls surrounded her, punching her in the sides, shoving her, shaking her nascent horns. She refused to fight back physically, to be just like them. Instead, she yelled, “Stop!” and covered her lithe body with her arms to protect herself. It was less than a minute before a teacher stomped out into the school yard, the haggard old rhino woman felt in the vibrations of her steps before she arrived. She separated the girls, who all singled out Gazelle as the instigator of the fight, and pulled Gazelle away.

The rhino held her shoulder, leading her inside the school to the office, and clucked her tongue. “Señorita Mebarak, you are not going to get anywhere in life if all you do is sing and fight!”

* * *

 

The night her parents talked to her, after the meeting with her teacher, she told them the story. Nydia cried, hugging her daughter, and her father Melhem shook his head in disbelief.

“Gazelle. You did all that for one predator?” He asked, already knowing the answer. “I love you mamita, but you do not get to decide who feels what about predators and prey. You should keep to yourself. Your brothers and sisters don’t live here with us; you don’t have anyone to help you!” Melhem chided her as he stood, then left the room to be alone with his thoughts.

Nydia pulled Gazelle close, pressing her into the thin, rose-colored cotton blouse she wore. She rubbed her snout into Gazelle’s blonde hair, her eyes closed. Her breath felt warm and comforting against her ears.

“Mi princesa…” Nydia began, holding the back of her daughter’s head to her chest for a moment before pulling away and gently holding her by the shoulders. Deeply held affection, love that would always be there, no matter what, radiated from her calming gaze as she looked into Gazelle’s eyes.

“Do you know why we named you Gazelle? Because you are a gazelle. You are not greater or lesser than any other gazelle. It is a plain name, no? But that is why it is beautiful. You are who you are, a mammal, and if you become well known, it will be because of your deeds, not of your beautiful name. To be Gazelle is to be grateful. Grateful to be our daughter. Grateful to be in this world, to have the gift of life, and to share it with others.”


	2. Contrast | Contraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Sorry for the wait. I had a lot of things going on.
> 
> In this chapter, Gazelle, 15, faces more social difficulties and begins her recording career. This text contains many references to Shakira's actual life, many elements are also modified or invented entirely. To give a sense of reality, I input references to Colombian dishes and events in the country at the time. Of course, in Zootopia, it's called Colambia.
> 
> I also broke new ground this time: I wrote a verse of an original song for this chapter. I don't speak Spanish, but apparently I know enough to write lyrics. A translation has been provided in the text.
> 
> Please enjoy, reviews welcome!

1994

“Just because you dance and sing doesn’t mean you can change anything.” Diego muttered, watching his friend practice her routines for the third time that day. “You think you can twirl and shake your hips until the world changes? Because of  _music_?” The large, dark-furred anteater flicked his tongue, turning his head away from Gazelle.

Gazelle shook her head defiantly, but with a casual smile that defused the situation as best she could. It was the practiced smile of a girl who had come under fire many times before because of her passions and ambitions and met it all with patience. She lowered her arms, shoulders still rising and falling as she breathed heavily through her nose. The exertion of her dance routines occasionally got to her, but she knew the importance of proper training. Every book or magazine about dancing and singing she could get her hooves on were all in agreement about that.

“It’s alright. I know it’s hard to believe. I can’t always believe it myself, Diego. But that’s no reason to stop… No, no I think it’s all the more reason to keep trying.” Her voice was soft, understanding of his doubts but unwilling to let them shake her. “Besides, if you tease me all the time about my dancing then I’m going to tease you about you and Juanita!” Her tone changed suddenly, a hint of a giggle bubbling out behind her hoof. “You spend so much time with  _her_  that it might as well be a job!”

Diego drummed his claws against the table, long tongue dipping down to slurp at the ice, mostly melted, in the glass before him. “Oye Gaz! Just because you don’t have time for me you think it’s okay to pick on Juanita?” He replied, his smirk evident in how he delivered the line.

Gazelle strolled over and pulled out the chair opposite him. She sat down and crossed her legs at the ankle, then reached out to pull a cup with a straw to her lips. Her hoof rapped at the table gently.

“Come on, did you ask her out yet?” Gazelle gently asked, happy to drift the conversation away from what others thought she could achieve. Besides, she liked her two friends, and she happened to think they were perfect for each other.

“Ask her out? You say it like it’s so easy, why?” Diego’s voice had a sudden and unexpected bit of bite behind it. Gazelle’s eyes widened ever so slightly. She leaned forward sympathetically and inclined her head.

“Because… If you love her, you should tell her.” She urged. Diego wasn’t having it. He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at Gazelle.

“I can’t. It’s bad enough she’s my friend, don’t you know that? And it’s bad enough _we’re_ friends! The only reason they let me be friends with you is because my ancestors used to eat ants and never mammals. But Juanita is a  _real predator_  Gazelle. If my parents see us together, or her parents see us…”

“So…” Gazelle began to speak again, choosing her words carefully. Her face expressed a deep pain, hidden under a layer of composure. She really didn’t understand the impediments of society’s dictating intermammal relationships. Just because of voting groups, gangs, and armies? Just because ancestors fought, and more recent ancestors fought _because_ ancestors had fought? “So you tell her… You tell her and you wait, and you make a man of yourself, and you and she can make your own decisions and-“

Diego cut her off, fuming. “And say goodbye to our families? Gazelle, this is  _Colambia_ , not  _Zootopia_. We all live together sure but look around you! Don’t you see how tense it all is? Just look at the Procesco! They’re investigating President Scamper because he funded his campaign with cartel  _pesos_. The cartels are buying our elections, and every mammal is still just looking out for himself! We’re not ready for predators and prey to love each other, to marry each other, and we never will be!”

Diego stood up, marching off. Things had already been tense that day. Diego had already told Juanita how he felt, and she had already told him that it could never happen… Even if she wanted it to. Gazelle didn’t follow Diego, but she did talk to Juanita after school the next day, still troubled over the words of her dear friend. Everything about the situation was obvious to everyone but Gazelle. That day, she learned how hard life could be; that even though she could protect Juanita from bullies, as she had in primary school those years ago, she couldn’t protect her or mammals like her from society.

* * *

 

The walls of the humble recording studio’s recording booth were claustrophobic in their closeness, the grey padded walls totally alien. Gazelle sat in front of a microphone, nervously playing with the hem of her light blue skirt. Across and through a pane of glass sat a goat adjusting the levels of the intricate recording devices, and a large bear in a suit and tie Gazelle knew as her manager. His rumbling voice came through her headset.

“We’ll be ready in five minutes. Everything alright? Is the ‘belly dancer girl’ of Burronquilla having second thoughts about making her career go supernova?” There was a lilt of humor in his tone. The old spectacled bear had to chuckle; he always felt it helped loosen the artists up. New clients like Gazelle were always the most nervous, and getting past that apprehension was key to recording a good set. Camilo Urstofan had done this a thousand times with varying degrees of success. It was never hard to convince the singers they had chances – especially when they did – but Gazelle’s parents had been a hard sell. To them, music wasn’t the way out or the way to improve. Education was key.

Gazelle valued education, but she couldn’t help but be overcome with the need to write, to write poetry and music and to create and to feel her body move and to hear her voice raise in her ears. Everything else seemed dull by comparison. Friends told her she was a born performer. Sitting there in that recording booth, she couldn’t help but remember the time she, at four years old, got on a table at a corner restaurant serving Middle Eastern food. The pulsing drum of the doumbek had gotten her all excited, and she had always been a little on the rambunctious side. Back then, her dancing couldn’t really be called dancing, and though she knew now that her dance would only come in handy if her music became famous, she felt strongly that both were equally valid ways to express herself.

“Ah no problem Camilo! I was just thinking how lucky I am to be here.” Gazelle replied eagerly, hooves balled into fists. Going from a girl who was told she would never be a singer because of her vibrato to a girl sitting in a recording booth was like going from the gutter to the moon. She said a prayer every day in thanks to her lucky stars that Camilo had been scouting when she happened to be performing for schoolmates one Friday afternoon. He gave her his card, talked to her parents, and somehow managed to convinced them that even if nothing came of it, even if nothing sold and no one liked her singing, she at least deserved a chance.

Gazelle knew well that everyone deserved a chance; even those that were deemed hopeless.

It was for the hopeless that she sang:

 

 _“¿_ _Por qué siento…_   _mi corazón creciendo…?_

_Cuando yo te miro… Todo parece nuevo…_

_¿Es un hechizo que lances?_ _¿_ _Me puso en trance?_

_¿O eres tú, eres tú, simplemente tú…?”_

_English:_

_“Why do I feel… my heart growing…?_

_When I look at you… everything feels new…_

_Is it a spell you cast? That made me hold fast?_

_Or is it you, is it you, simply you…?”_

 

Gazelle had never been in love – well, perhaps if childhood crushes counted – but her words ached for someone, some mammal to make her feel the way the song made her feel. She had written it on a rainy day only a year ago, and part of her was kicking herself for trying to write such poetry without the life experiences that made it feel real. But the feeling she had when singing it was as real as anything. She finished the take and smiled up at Camilo through the glass of the recording booth. He was nodding his head, holding up his thick paw to give her a thumbs up.

“That was great!” He exclaimed, already getting ready to dial his superior on the phone to tell him just what a star he’d uncovered. “Give me just a minute, why don’t you record some more takes? Or another song? I believe in your ability, so don’t be afraid to do a little self-directing.”

Gazelle felt a warmth in her chest, an overwhelming, rising excitement brought on by such a supportive response. She kicked her hooves in sheer nervous energy and wriggled about on her seat to reposition her body and her mindset. She told herself she had to stop being nervous, that this manager believed in her, and that all she had left to do was to believe in herself.

That day, Gazelle began to believe.

* * *

 

The next morning was a bright blue Saturday. Gazelle sat at the kitchen table, shoving forkfuls of cayeye into her mouth so she could spend more time talking about the previous day and less time eating breakfast. The sun shone through the window and across the table, where her mother and father sat with their own meals. All the food had been cooked lovingly by Nydia.

“So after we finished recording, he told me what his boss said, like it was so positive and overpowering that I thought I was going to faint in the studio! He said we can have the album ready by next month!” Gazelle said excitedly, back straight and horns held high.

Nydia and Melhem couldn’t say anything that shot down their Gazelle at a time like this. The unspoken parental bond dictated they had to hide away all those concerns and uncertainties that welled up whenever their daughter did something new. Her mother spoke first, a patient smile softening her words even further.

“Gazelle, you have to pace yourself; but this is such wonderful news. See Meli? I told you when we bought her that little typewriter when she was a calf that it would be a good investment and now she is singing for an album the words she has written!” She gently elbowed her husband in jest, her soft brown eyes creasing at the sides in her mature smile. The smile of a proud mother. To see her daughter so happy about something gave her life, and though on the inside she didn’t expect her to gain an enormous career from this work, she thought Gazelle would at least find some fulfillment.

Melhem let himself grin in response to the enthusiasm both his girls radiated. He put his hoof on his wife’s and shrugged his shoulders, making a play at giving up.

“Oh Gazi, you win. If this is what you want to do, take it from me and your mother: you have to put everything into it. No letting your music fall by the wayside. I want you to finish your high school, but the path you take… Maybe it will be the one that is right. We cannot force you not to shake your hips and sing your songs. Your poetry is beautiful. The world will respond to it.”

Gazelle nearly dropped her fork. The plate before was thoroughly clean, and she caught herself, gently laying the fork down beside it. She brushed her thick mane of blonde hair aside and looked up at her parents, mystified.

“You’re saying what I think you’re saying? Haha, that’s great! I won’t let you down! Thank you  _mamá, papá_!”


	3. Movement | Movimiento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter three! Gazelle finally sets her sights on Zootopia.

2000

The press waited eagerly. Gazelle, via her agents, had given a time for an announcement. That time was just a few minutes away. Her parents were present in the small room connecting to the hall outside, talking to each other about their wonderful daughter. Even they didn’t suspect the reason behind the press conference. Camilo stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. The bear stood head and shoulders over the delicate pop star, but his paws were gentler than any. He had helped many young stars reach the fame they sought, but even he knew Gazelle was special. Even he knew that the girl, unlike so many others, had both the strength of self to resist being changed negatively by fame, and the willpower to push herself to make the differences she wanted to see.

Fame did not hurt her. On the contrary. Fame just gave Gazelle the means to give back in a way she never could before. Camilo put every ounce of faith in her and she had never once let him down. Three albums later and she had made her breakthrough in the Latin world, but stayed as grounded as ever. She had performed on stage at concerts across many countries surrounding Colambia, guitar in hoof and voice as bright and beautiful as the day she began. Now was her time to impress him yet again. Even Camilo was not informed as to the nature of her announcement.

Gazelle took a step forward. She paused at the doors and turned, smiling wide.

“Watch me. This is why I began to sing. This is why I danced.” With an excited flit of her tail, she turned back around and pushed the doors open, met with a shower of camera flashes. The light bounced off her, casting her shadow against the walls as she approached the podium. It didn’t bother her anymore, the attention. She knew she could use it.

“ _Buenos dias!_ I want to thank you all so much for coming this morning. I am so pleased to say what am I about to say. All of Colambia has made me a blessed soul with the success I have been given. It is my great opportunity to give back. I am announcing the formation of a charity: Pzeuñas y zarpas descalzos. This organization will be funded by two sources: my earnings, and everyone’s donations. I hope to be able to build schools and focus primarily on the availability and quality of education for _all_ children, predator _and_ prey, in my native Colambia.”

As the initial announcement drew to a close, the cameras flashed frantically again and a mix of paws and hooves shot up to ask questions.

Gazelle nodded and pointed in the direction of a donkey. He stood up quickly, smoothing out his suit.

“Why start a charity? You’ve not even made it into the international market yet. Don’t you think this is a little premature?” The question came like a shot. The first question and already so negative.

Gazelle was tolerant. She had been through so much more than this, and she didn’t need the approval of everyone to do what she wanted with her money. Perhaps it was sentimental, perhaps foolish, but she had goals. She had to help mammals.

“It is never too early to begin giving back.” Gazelle answered confidently. “I will not shy away from further success. But I will not wait for some… vague measure of fame while children go uneducated and hungry, without homes or caregivers in the streets of Bogoatá.”

Her hoof moved to gesture to the next mammal, an older llama.

“Gazelle. Why extend the reach of your charity to both predators and prey? Most established charities focus on just one group. It’s easier to attract donors, easier to implement programs…”

It wouldn’t be like her to frown. Gazelle was able to avoid it, even though the cruel sharpness of the question struck her as unfortunate. She lifted her head up and gave the cameras her sincere smile yet again. “It might be easy… But poverty is not easy. War and abuses of power, drugs and crime, none of these things are easy on the mammals of Colambia. I will not let one group continue to suffer while the other is helped. I have nothing but love and respect for all mammals of the world, no matter their species.”

With that, the conference drew to a close. Gazelle drew away from the podium and walked back to the side room. When she felt the door close behind her, she exhaled a sigh of relief, rushing forward to hug her parents. The accepted her into their arms, instantly understanding of her emotions. She was still their little girl.

“Gazelle! You have made us so very proud. I never imagined!” Melhem said, eyes clouded by tears. She had learned from her life and never forgotten her roots, even as fame began to find her.

Gazelle rested her snout between her parents’ shoulders, satisfied that she had done the right thing. “I have been struggling for this.” She said softly, her large, expressive eyes closed in bliss. “This is why I spend so much time… Singing, dancing, directing, playing music, writing it, planning… I promise you _mam_ _á_ , _papa_ _, I will always give back. I will fight for all mammals."_

_Off in the corner, Camilo was shaking his head. He waved his paw. “Gazelle, we will need to talk about this more.” He announced, sounding grim but unwilling to divulge further details in front of her parents, particularly during such a happy moment. He adjusted his tie instead to keep his mind off what he had to say. “Later, llavería. Just enjoy your moment for now, eh?”_

* * *

 

Gazelle felt strange staying in a hotel room in Burronquilla, the city of her birth. After all, wasn’t her home just a few miles away? Sighing, she reached up behind her long, slender neck to remove the clasp of a necklace. She slid the bangles off her arms and piled them all on the nightstand. The day was long, and wonderful. The press conference, followed by a day with her parents in the city. She expected the papers would be printing the story the next day. Letting out a soft sigh, Gazelle let herself fall back against the bed, the cushions catching her head. Due to her long horns, she always had to move the pillows back several feet. She reached her hooves out and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her body as she wondered what her old friends were doing now. Diego and Juanita had stopped talking to each other last she saw them. Her hope that her message would reach even them someday was galvanizing – the same hope she had held onto for so long; that all mammals could live together.

A gentle knock at the door woke her up an hour later. Gazelle surprised herself by drifting off to sleep, curled with the pillow against her. She pushed it away and stood up, fixing her hair as she walked to the hotel door and peeked through the hole.

“Camilo! Come in.” She said through the door, pulling it open and letting the bear duck his head and enter. He followed her back as she let the door close, seating himself on a plain wood chair with some puffy, cream upholstery. He wasn’t smiling like he usually was. His eyes were cast downward. Gazelle sat on the bed facing him, waiting for him to speak but not willing to force him to do so.

“Gazelle… You know I support you no matter what? That I am trying to ensure you have the biggest career you can?” He asked, as if to confirm her trust in him. She nodded. “Then don’t gasp at what I am about to say. The Zoony label has expressed their… reservations as to the aim of your charity. Now, they would never say this publicly, but they feel it would be _safer_ to focus on prey. Predators have been facing numerous image problems around the world. This is not Zootopia, and mammals are not as unwary of their neighbors.”

Gazelle was taken aback. She shook her head and replied, “But Camilo, _you_ are a predator. I am sitting here alone with you in my room. Do I think you are going to attack me? _No. Nunca._ If I am going to be an international star, I am not going to be able to live with myself if I conveniently ignore predators. I have never been to Zootopia but I know there are mammals all over the world who feel the same way as me. Maybe I should move to Zootopia to spread this message. To live where it is welcome. Then, perhaps, our government and our militias will wake up and see that they don’t have to fight the integration of society. Fight for some kind of… power that’s not worth having after all the destruction they’ve caused.” She was shaking, trying to avoid crying in front of her manager. How could simple charity bring such disapproval?

Camila groaned at the sight of Gazelle’s pain – the last thing he wanted to see. He looked up at her and spoke softly, “You’re a smart girl, you know. I think you just gave me the best idea of your career. Zootopia is one of the largest economies in the world, and a mammal like you would _resonate_ so well there. How’s your English?”

Gazelle stopped short, catching her breath and opening her eyes. “My… English? Haha! Terrible. I’m going to need a teacher.”

“How about my wife? You already know each other and her English is excellent.”

“Gloria? Really? Okay. I’ll do it. If I’m going to write any songs in English I’m going to have to learn about poetry, not just conversation, okay? I’m not giving up my control of my music and my message.” She was firm, emphasizing the importance of her choice, and also perhaps to mask her trepidation. Move to Zootopia? It would be like starting all over again. She would be struggling to be heard again, be completely unknown again… But the outcome would be worth it. Gazelle knew that in order to get the money to help mammals – and it was always money, wasn’t it? – she needed to gain the attention of an even larger audience. Predators and prey alike were affected by poverty while the men in charge fought each other over who should govern what. It was absurd. She was tired of children having their chances taken away from them before they were born.

It was time for her to fight.


	4. Fire | Fuego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces THE TIGERS were you all waiting eagerly for this?
> 
> I fell in love with the idea making them Indian in heritage, and brothers, so please enjoy!
> 
> I would love to hear your comments. Thanks!

2004

“Welcome back to Nocturnal Tonight. Without further ado, I’d like to introduce my guest, Colambian pop sensation, Gazelle!” The little aardwolf speaking was a larger than life TV personality; Jerry Stripe. He was small, but the pressed suit he wore and microphone pinned to his lapel always helped him draw in his own crowd. That, and the flashing applause sign. Gazelle was waiting back stage for her cue, and finally she heard her name. Producers ushered her forward, and before she knew it she was thrust into the lights of the stage. The audience didn’t need to be told to applaud for her, but the sign flashed anyway.

Gazelle was dressed in a reserved black and gold dress, bracelets on her wrists and dark heels on her hooves. She gave a little wave and tried to hide her nervousness as she glided across the stage to her seat, leaning down to give Jerry a pair of cheek air kisses.

“Mwa! Ooh, wow, you’re even taller in person, haha.” Jerry began, sliding back to his seat with his usual chipper antics. “Tell me, Gazelle, what’s it like living in Zootopia, coming from Colambia?”

Gazelle nodded and turned her torso to the host, trying to get comfortable in the plush seat.

“Well, Zootopia is very different from Colambia. In Colambia we have a lot of problems between predators and prey, a lot of animosity. It’s refreshing to live in Zootopia where I see so many mammals all working together. I hope my Colambia can be like that someday.” It was true. In the four years since she had moved to Zootopia to start an English-language career, she had seen many examples of predators and prey living together without a social stigma, unlike her homeland. That didn’t make her miss home any less. The culture shock was definitely present those first couple years, and she especially had trouble finding the food she loved the most.

“We are the mammal metropolis! Anyone can be anything and all that, you know, according to Mayor Lionheart. But I’ve tried and tried and all I can be is a two-bit comedian with a night time talk show! Haha!” The resident band played a small rimshot to accompany the self-deprecating joke. Gazelle laughed politely, before the host dug into her some more. “I’ve heard you only started learning English a few years ago, is that true? Is it hard? You know, the language barrier, the accent… Mammals say your lyrics are unwieldy. Good thing you have those sexy moves to make up for any shortcomings!”

The English language media _had_ given Gazelle a hard time. There was a certain cruelty to the way they mocked her accent, a practice of sheer ignorance, and when they criticized lyrics she had stayed up all night translating into poetry that was meaningful to her, she was galvanized to study even harder. Meanwhile, while record sales were great, most of the coverage of her music had to do with her videos. Many had her dancing and shaking her hips like she used to do on the streets of Burronquilla. Of course, sex sold, and she knew it – she directed those videos. But was sex the message she was pushing? Or was it confidence, sensuality, and being in control of your femininity? She believed firmly in the latter. After all, dance was a language, and in it, at least, she was fluent.

“I… I’m very happy to be recording in English _and_ Spanish. I write all my lyrics, and it’s a lot of fun to translate them to get just the right… _feel_ you know? I want mammals to understand that I am not just a dancer and a singer. I write, I play guitar, harmonica, I love to drum, I direct my videos and am at the helm of my career. I feel like everything is only going to get better from here.”

Everything in her mind told her to push through. To not falter. To stand tall when the words came like knives to pick her apart, to cast doubt, to classify her as a doll for men to look at. She would not be marginalized like other stars – but Zootopia’s media was new to her. It was sarcastic, and it was eager to twist anything into tabloid fodder. Granted, there were tabloids in Colambia, but this felt… Constant.

She was eager to finish the show and never look back.

* * *

 

Gazelle took the elevator down to the lobby from the show floor. It wasn’t even five o’clock at night, but those late night shows always taped early. As she stepped out onto the street, she saw the hustle and bustle of the Rainforest district continuing as usual – except for the slew of protestors outside the tree-trunk high rise. Gazelle stopped in her tracks, looking at the signs held by various mammals – predator and prey. One sign read _Keep Species Separate – Decline to Combine!_ while another had a printed display: _Keep Hybrids Divided!_

Hybrids? It wasn’t something Gazelle had ever thought about. But mules, ligers, and especially those among wolves, coyotes and jackals… Weren’t those all hybrids? But what she saw in front of her was the same as any protest against _mammals_. It was the same as an anti-gay protest, or a protest against mixed species couples who would adopt if they wanted children. Mixed species couples weren’t common, but hybrids? They were a hundred times rarer. Gazelle had never known any.

It still burned her up.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” She demanded, approaching a jaguar holding a sign and shouting at the building.

“We’re protesting hybrids; why don’t you take a pamphlet?” He pulled a home-printed pamphlet out of a satchel on his waist. Gazelle glanced down at it, saw more unflattering graphics of hybrids, and crumpled it up in her hoof.

“Why here?” She asked, still trying to get a handle on the situation. Maybe she could do something.

“One of the staff on Nocturnal Tonight is a hybrid. A liger or something, it’s abominable! She shouldn’t exist, and she certainly shouldn’t have the ability to influence our media by working at a major network!”

Gazelle balked. It was crazy talk. Utterly mad, and all based around the mere fact that these mammals _existed_. Not what they did or beliefs they held, but just what they _were_. Fuming, she felt herself about to start yelling. Berating them. But she fought the urge, knowing it would reflect badly on her and that her publicist would probably quit. Was it a widely held belief? Or was it something most mammals never thought about?

Ignorance bred contempt.

Gazelle stormed off, away from the small crowd of sign wielding mammals. She had to clear her head. Then perhaps she would take action. As she walked, she felt the damp humidity and felt a little at home. While she loved every district, the flowers and the atmosphere of the rainforest reminded her of home the most. Gradually the noise of protest began to die down.

“Hey, Anuj, quit fooling around you little dhakkan!” Gazelle heard a young male voice through the trees. She peeked between some branches and across a divide, catching a glimpse of some boys playing on a thoroughfare. It was near some shops, but not so near as to anger the owners. A small bowl and a sign sat nearby, next to a beat up old boom box playing a mixtape of bright, pulsing, Tala beats.

Four tigers dressed in a combination of dingy shorts, t-shirts, and hooded sweatshirts that looked half-eaten by the elements were gathered in a circle, talking. Every few moments they would laugh, or poke and prod one another. Gazelle watched as they broke off from the circle, then began to… _dance!_ It was magnificent, if a little amateur. They turned their large shoulders about in rough sync, hopped over one another, struck poses and made faces to characterize their moves.

Gazelle rushed over, darting along the vine pathway and onto the solid planks. She kept her distance, nodding her head along to their rhythm for a few minutes. Then, unable to help herself, she inched forward and dropped wad of bills into their bowl before backing up to give them their space. She couldn’t help but notice the bowl had been empty.

“Hey! _Maal!_ ” The bright eyed, young-looking one called out to the others, before he broke routine and rushed over to the bowl. He picked the cash up in his paws and straightened out the bills, holding them up reverently. “Arey wah! Thanks lady!” Sitting on his knees, the tween tiger looked up with a big toothy smile.

With annoyed looks on their faces, the rest of the tigers stopped dancing and walked over to where Gazelle and Anuj were.

“Oho, flirting with the ladies, Anuj?” One asked, his amber eyes flickering. The fur on the top of his head was slicked back, and he had a definite lisp. He wore a pink button-up, open, with the collar popped up.

“No way! Lakshman look, there’s gotta be like… one two three… a hundred dollars here! We can eat for a whole week!” Anuj shot back, holding up the money for the others to see.

The largest tiger, still just a boy, pushed past the others and stood face to face with Gazelle. He was young, but all the tigers were still taller than her. For a moment, he just stared at her. Her fine clothes, her expensive shoes and bag. Slowly, a smile began to crack his lips.

“You know,” he said, “you’re the first one to give us anything all day? We’re getting so tired dancing for nothing! Thanks.”

Another tiger, looking about the same age, pulled him back from his close proximity to Gazelle. “Dhatt! Jitendra, what are you doing in her face? Look at her being nice and you get all close and then decide it’s time to smile?”

“I’m just thanking her.” The other said coolly, his smile turning into a smirk.

“Well, uh…” Instead of retorting, the first tiger reached down to pull the smaller one up off the ground to take the money from him and put it away. He patted him on the head. “Miss, this is Anuj, he’s a pesky little fly and he’s always buzzing.” Anuj’s tail swished around in annoyance.

“Oho! What if I introduce you? This is Jasvinder, he thinks he’s in charge but he’s not.” He teased, lightly elbowing the tiger with the slicked hair.

“That’s right. I’m Lakshman, fourteen and gorgeous, and this is Jitendra. He’s the one who’s really in charge because he’s the oldest.”

“Haay… By ten minutes…” Jasvinder muttered, ears folding in a quiet tantrum.

Jitendra stepped forward, aware Gazelle had yet to get a word in edge wise. “Anuj is twelve so don’t mind him too much. Jasvinder and I are fifteen and we’re almost men.”

Gazelle could bear it. She giggled behind her hoof and stamped her foot. “You guys are great! Where did you learn to move like that?”

Jasvinder shrugged. “What was it… TV? Sometimes? Well, not since we left the orphanage.”

Lakshman nodded, “And a lot of it is just self-taught you know? We’re just that good. Shah!” He twirled, then did some popping and locking.

Gazelle’s ears went bounced at the mention of an orphanage. “You mean you don’t…” She stopped herself. Was it right to just start asking?

Anuj crouched down to turn the boom box off and stood up with a nod. “We’re just four brothers fending for ourselves! Don’t worry lady, it’s like a lot better to be out on the streets than eating that ‘food’ and learning boring stuff like how to use computers. What, does every Bengal tiger have to be a computer technician? I hate computers!”

Gazelle shook her head with a grin forming. These boys reminded her a lot of herself at their age – especially the youngest one.

“Hey, guys, don’t call her ‘lady’ okay? Yo, what’s your name?” Jasvinder asked, his expression making it obvious that she was familiar to him, but that he couldn’t quite puzzle out from where.

Nodding, Gazelle pushed her arms out, shoving her purse into the boys’ arms. She took a step back and performed a brief routine – her hips swiveled and gyrated in a perfect figure eight, she extended her arms and swooped them in, tossed her head, and shook her tail. The tigers were floored. They started shouting and hooting.

“Go lady, go lady, go lady!” They roared in unison.

Gazelle stopped, unable to keep from laughing. She doubled over, then popped back up and put a hoof on her hip. “I’m Gazelle. I moved to Zootopia a couple years ago… I’m a singer, and a dancer, and… well, a lot of other things.”

The tigers’ minds all seemed to click one after the other. This was the gazelle who made a splash in 2001 with a number of hit songs. She had exploded onto the Zootopia music scene with little warning, and radio stations had been playing her music ever since.

“Objection?!” Anuj gasped. Gazelle nodded, smiling.

“Wherever, Whenever?” Lakshman asked, losing his controlled cool, his mouth simply hanging agape.

Gazelle giggled. “Actually, it is the other way around.”

The boys shouted, laughing and gasping and holding the sides of their heads as if they couldn’t believe what was happening. Gazelle looked on, tolerating their silliness with a temperament that was purely maternal. Finally, she clapped her hooves together and bent down to pick up the bowl, sign and boom box.

“The striped quartet? Is that the name of your crew?” Gazelle read the sign aloud. It was a cute name.

Jintendra nodded, flexing one thick arm and running a finger down the length of the stripes there. “You got it. It was… It was uh, my idea. Do you like it?”

She nodded. Then she took a moment, just looking at the four tigers. They were all as tall as or taller than her - except for Anuj, but he would get there. She could see the stars in their eyes. The way that, even though they lived on the streets as they had said, the world hadn’t beaten them down yet, hadn’t stolen the light away from them. Her heart ached. It ached because she knew she had a chance to do something.

And she was always looking for backup dancers.

“Okay boys, listen to this. I’m going to hire you. Okay? You’re gonna be my back up dancers and I’m gonna take you on tour and shoot videos and… You need to tell me you’re going to be able to handle it. It’s either that or I take you back to the orphanage myself, pulling you by your tails.”

Lakshman put the back of his paw on his forehead and slowly fell backwards. As if ready for it, the two largest tigers, Jasvinder and Jitendra, caught him. Anuj was laughing and squealing, dancing around, his tail dancing with him. Jitendra’s other big paw fanned his younger brother and he stared at Gazelle as if she started speaking in another language.

Jasvinder rumbled, “You want to come in… And what, bring us home? You’d do that? You saw one dance and you’d do that? What would the press think? Four _tigers_ hanging around a gazelle, and a famous one at that?”

Gazelle shook her head. “The press? I don’t care.” A shrug. “Don’t care. Nope! Do you know what the press said when I started a charity for poor children in Colambia? ‘Why predators, why not only prey?' The world has this mentality that predators are barely civilized, this fear that they are just going to snap one day and start biting and clawing. But me? I don’t believe that. It’s crazy. Predators are mammals too.” As she spoke, an idea popped into her head. She grinned scandalously, head inclining and her eyes darting this way and that.

“You want me to prove it? Prove I want to hire you, to help you, that I’m not crazy and that I’m not just teasing you? Come here. We’re gonna do something – follow me! _¡Oye! ¡Vámonos!_ ”

Gazelle took off at a light pace, laughing and waving her arm to beckon them along. The four big cats followed out of sheer curiosity. Had she lost her mind? For a few minutes they trudged across the vine pathways and the plank platforms. When they saw they protestors, waving their signs of _No Hybrids!_ and _Abomination!_ they all caught on.

Gazelle was going to fight back.

With news cameras already gathered around the outer edges of the protest, Gazelle burst through the picket line to stand at the open space in front of the studio building’s entrance. The tigers followed after her, tripping all over themselves. Anuj clutched the boom box to his chest. When they came to a stop, he hastily set it down, fished a tape out of his pocket, and stuffed it into the cassette slot. A ring of trumpets and banging conga drums electrified Gazelle’s body, already shivering with excitement. She motioned for the tigers to stand behind her.

No statement was made. No lyrics played. The instrumental piece continued while Gazelle began to gyrate her hips like the seasoned star she was. The tigers stared at her for a moment, beside themselves, before they tried to follow her steps with moves of their own. Street dancing. It was what she grew up doing, and to her, so many kinds of dance happened on the street that the designation was meaningless. It was purely… dancing!

Immediately the news cameras focused on her, her movements unrehearsed and captivating. Every few moments she would glance to her sides, feeling the rush of air and movement beside her as the large bodies of the teenage tigers bounced and turned to the rhythm she followed. Bravely, she fell backward, and a moment later she was staring up into Jasvinder’s green eyes. He had caught her without a missed beat, then tossed her back up without a word; only a grin.

This was her test, and they were just as good as she hoped. At the same time, she hoped they would also consider it a test for her, and that she would pass.

The headlines the next day said it all.

_Gazelle Breaks up Hybrid Protest with Hips, Tigers._

Was she pro hybrid? She was. She was pro mammal. Pro predator and pro prey. Now she felt as if she had adopted four wonderful young boys. Boys who might have lost their way, their dream, and everything else living on the street. She wanted to take care of them, to do what she could to raise them, and of course, tighten up their dance moves. She would spread her fire to them. And while she did, she began to focus on her notebooks again.

Gazelle had an album to write.


	5. Decision | Decisión

2010

Global ZOONICEF ambassador. Representative of her country. Pop star, and so much more. Gazelle worked incredibly hard, every aspect of her devoted to some cause, some effort, or some creative outlet. So why did she still feel unfulfilled? She was happy. She was driven, ambitious, and had every outlet she could possibly need, but her mind was craving dedicated companionship, even though her four backup dancers were the closest thing she had to family in Zootopia.

It was something Gazelle had thought about often. Always too busy for love – much to her parents’ delight in her younger years, but now that she was 31, they had started to ask her about when she would find a good gazelle. They were difficult conversations – Gazelle couldn’t exactly go out into the clubbing or dating world, so she had to meet mammals through work. She respected mammals professionally, and that dissuaded her from risking those friendships with dating. So how was she supposed to find someone?

“Gazelle, why don’t you just meet someone abroad? You know, leave Zootopia? They’re bound to not recognize you somewhere, ya?” Jasvinder was sitting across from Gazelle in her home, a modest, if secluded house in the outskirts of the Rainforest District. It was a quiet and relaxing District; one of her favorites, due to the way the climate reminded her of home.

“Mm… Maybe, but I’ve got to get this album released first. I’m in talks to go on tour again, you know that. Maybe I could meet a mammal on the road? Ah but with security, it’s so hard to really meet my fans…” Gazelle wasn’t so sure it would be easy. Even the boys had trouble going out in public without being recognized. And the way Gazelle conducted herself, the way she dressed, was too fashionable to go unnoticed.

“Maybe if you go out in a hat, sunglasses, and torn up shorts?” Anuj sat himself in the chair next to Jasvinder, smiling at his brother and taking a quaffing gulp of a protein smoothie he had fixed himself in Gazelle’s kitchen.

“Are you guys going to refill my fridge after you’re done with it?” Gazelle teased, her eyebrows raised and her snout lowered.

“Hey hey hey Gazelle, come on, you bust our butts in choreography and you can’t spare some food now and then?” Anuj complained in response, smirking down at her.

“And when are all of _you_ going to get lives and wives? Oh, or husbands, of course.”

Anuj and Jasvinder looked at each other.

“You know I’ve been seeing someone, right? This handsome little cougar from Tundratown? We’re not exactly marriage material, yet…” Jasvinder looked to the side, considering his options as if he hadn’t thought about it before. “And you, Anuj?”

“I’m the youngest, I have the most time!”

“Oh dhakkan, you’re eighteen now! Time to be a man and go on dates. You’ve got way too much free time on your paws.” Jasvinder poked and prodded at his younger brother’s shoulder, much to the consternation of his brother. Gazelle covered her mouth with her hoof as she giggled at the display. Having these young tigers to hang around with always made her feel more energetic – that’s why they were such good backup dancers.

* * *

 

“The World Cup is my favorite sporting event, so… thank you for letting me kick this off!” Gazelle’s voice echoed over the crowd through her microphone. Behind her, band members and enormous speakers crowded a stage, while a broad space in front of her was clear for dancing. She shifted, clapping her shoes on the stage and appreciating the stability that the heels gave her delicate ankles. Four tigers flanked her, wearing sparkly shorts and displaying their powerful and athletic physiques.

Mammals had gathered from all across the world in South Girafferica for the event. Gazelle, in the moments before the music began, wondered why the game was still called _hoofball_. Why not _pawball_? Or _hoof & paw ball_? She took solace in the fact that at least species of all kinds were represented both in the crowd and on the teams. When the music began to throb, the bass pulsing from the speakers, the crowd started to dance with her and her tigers.

It was more than a concert – it was a celebration. Gazelle had already used the publicity to shift focus to underprivileged youth in all of Girafferica, and it had worked. Donations were coming in, supplemented by her own earnings. She danced freely, unfettered by the guilt often lodged at international stars for their lack of involvement in world issues. In fact, commentators had opined that Gazelle might be _too_ involved, and that she should leave policy to the experts.

_Waka waka eh eh~_

But leaving policy and charity to the experts wasn’t doing enough. Everyone had to be involved, and that’s the kind of sentiment she was trying to foster. The world’s problems could be fixed with the world’s help, and bridging the gap between species as Zootopia had done was an important step in the healing process.

_Tsamina mina zangalewa~ This time for Girafferica!_

Gazelle threw her hooves up, and welcomed mammals of all kinds onto the stage to dance with her as the song began to wind down. The overjoyed crowd spent some time with her on stage, and she felt freer than she had in ages. When the band finally slowed to a stop, Gazelle thanked the audience, bowing, along with her tiger dancers. The cheering made her heart swell, and she thanked the crowd over and over before jogging off stage.

That night, she acquiesced to drinks with some of the band and concert crew. Even though she had just performed a concert, she hoped a hat (with space for her horns) and a plain dress would save her from scrutiny. She was right, at least, until she got herself involved when a cheetah got into an argument with the hippo bartender.

“Hey ma’am, I’m just trying to do my job. We just don’t like preds staying around too late. Why don’t you get on home.” The bartender snorted, polishing a glass and turning to help another customer.

“Excuse me, what’s the trouble here?” Gazelle interjected, eyes darting between the zebra and the cheetah.

“He says he’s not serving preds this close too dark. Says we get ‘violent’ if we’re drunk at night, and doesn’t want to be responsible for anything.” The cheetah woman didn’t even look halfway drunk. In fact, it appeared she hadn’t even gotten a drink yet.

Gazelle was sick of the behavior. It was baseless. “You won’t serve her? You’re afraid of drunk preds getting unruly? Alright then, serve me.” She slapped her purse on the bar, then fished out some money. “I want four drinks. Four. Make them.” Gazelle’s ears bounced as he spoke, indicative of her anger. She tapped her hoof on the floor as she waited, the cheetah stunned into silence as those beautiful eyes stayed narrowed on the bartender while he worked. When Gazelle received the drinks, she pushed two over to the cheetah and took two for herself. “You want to have a seat? Come on.” She gestured with her head to a nearby table, and gave a nod to her friends indicating she was fine.

“Oh, thanks, it can be hard out here for a pred. Your name is?” The cheetah asked, lifting one of the drinks to her lips after sitting down across from Gazelle.

Gazelle smiled, “Gazelle, and you?”

“Kira. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Gazelle shook her head, hiding her face behind a drink for a moment. “No, no. Just traveling to see some sports; the World Cup.” At this, the cheetah’s face lit up. Then, it darkened as quickly as it had come.

“The World Cup? Yeah. Huh. Brings mammals from the world over. But I’ve never seen a single mammal care about the Women’s World Cup. … I play on the South Girafferican team. Forward.”

This was a surprise to Gazelle. No wonder she was so bitter about the fanfare surrounding the event. “I watch women’s hoofball.” She responded, offering a small, encouraging smile.

The cheetah scoffed halfheartedly, then realized Gazelle hadn’t done anything but be nice to her and straightened up in her seat.

“You do? That’s awesome! You’re alright, ungulate! I’ve been playing since I was a girl, hoofball has been my whole life. Mammals think I’m crazy to devote so much time and energy to a sport like I do, but when you have a passion you just have to follow it. You know?”

Gazelle nodded, sipping at her drink. It had a light peach flavor. “Oh, I know. I devoted my whole lift to one thing too. Always working, or practicing, it becomes exhausting to not feel like you’re living your life sometimes.”

They continued to chat, even after Gazelle’s colleagues and crew headed off. Her security stayed behind, but she kept them at bay with icy glances. When they said their goodbyes, Gazelle wondered if what she had just been on was a date, and why no one ever told her it would be so much fun.

It was hard to date, as a pop star. Most of the mammals she met were interviewers, television hosts, fellow musicians, almost all of whom were spoken for. Gazelle resolved to try dating. Though she needed to adapt to it, it was obvious to even her that she needed to move on in her life. Maybe she would meet someone to inspire her someday.


	6. Always | Siempre

2016

“Once again the Zootopia Chamber of Commerce would like to thank Gazelle for her service as welcome ambassador. In her time here she has been a source of creative and conscientious inspiration for many citizens. She has worked tirelessly on behalf of children’s education, promoted a healthy lifestyle, and become a symbol of Zootopia’s efforts to ensure harmony and cooperation amongst all mammals.”

Mayor Lionheart had been addressing the public for the better part of five minutes, while Gazelle stood to his side, hooves folded in front of her body. Savanna Central plaza was crowded, the streets cordoned off save for the space outside Precinct One and City Hall.

“Gazelle, would you like to say a few words?” Lionheart offered, turning and opening his arm to gesture to the podium.

Gazelle nodded. She took to the microphone and had to briefly remind herself that this wasn’t a concert.

“Zootopia has been good to me. In a sense, it has become my second home. Every time I tour, I always known that I will return here, and that gives me hope. What this city does for mammals the world over is just the same. It gives us all hope, that one day the whole world can be like it is here. Peaceful, accepting, and open to all. I want to show every mammal who comes here that same sentiment by welcoming them, just as all of Zootopia’s residents are sure to do.”

High above, the digital billboard showed Gazelle in the red outfit she wore as one of her signatures during concerts. “I’m Gazelle; welcome to Zootopia.” It said.

* * *

 

Gazelle’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “I don’t understand. Savage?”

Nodding, Jitendra turned the channels until he found a news report detailing the press conference where the connection between savagery and predators was made. He stared hard and the screen reflected in his eyes. When the report ended, he turned it off and put the remote down hard on the glass table, harder than he intended.

“This happened just a few hours ago.” Lakshman mumbled, plopping himself down on the couch with his arms folded. “Already mammals are talking about some kind of… quarantine.”

“It’s madness. We don’t know anything and still this is the first thing mammals think of?” Jitendra growled, pacing. His tail whipped around in agitation.

Gazelle lowered her ears. It was hard seeing her boys like this. They had led happy lives since she met them, starred alongside her in videos, and started relationships. She had watched them grow up. Now they looked like little more than scared kittens in the face of this ‘savage’ epidemic. The air in her apartment suddenly seemed so cold. She leaned over and put her hooves on Lakshman’s arm, smiling up at him.

“So… They don’t know anything? Then they can’t prove anything, right?” Gazelle said, doing her best to hide her own fears. She wasn’t afraid of her tigers and her predator friends, no – she was afraid for them. “They can’t proof predators are the only ones. It’s… It’s a coincidence.”

Jitendra sighed, looking over at the two. “Maybe you’re right, but the things mammals are saying… Quarantine, research on predators, ‘biology.’ It’s scary.”

It was. All of them were thinking it on some level.

“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe society is ready to make these accusations… I’ve got to do something about this.” Gazelle stood, pondering the possibilities. She was a voice mammals would listen to. If she spoke out on this, they might listen. That meant… “We have to organize a protest.” She said, firmly smacking one fist into her other palm.

Lakshman and Jitendra stared at her.

“A protest? Now?” Jitendra’s jaw had dropped.

Lakshman shook his head. “Gazelle of course you can protest, that’s easy, but remember – you’re prey.”

“Not just me. All of us. And more. More mammals. We’re protesting the idea that predators and prey have anything to fear from each other. These divisions are making it hard for us to see who we are – mammals, all of us.” Her tone was resolute. Gazelle had already decided, and once she made a decision there was no turning back.

* * *

 

“Gazelle!” It was a young voice, shrill with excitement.

Gazelle turned, still wiping the sweat off her brow with a towel. A girl was running toward her, not older than five. She was a tiny little wolf in a blue dress with barrettes in her hair. Gazelle crouched down and scooped her up without a thought.

“I love your concert, Gazelle!” The wolf squealed, hugging her neck.

“Oh, you did, huh? Where’s your mommy and daddy?” Gazelle held her in one arm, petting her head with the other. The towel sat around her neck. She began to walk toward the exit, cradling the girl while she looked for her parents. She could still hear the sounds of the crowd dissipating outside the backstage area that had been set up. It wasn’t long before she spotted a timber wolf looking desperately calling the name ‘Lita’.

“Daddy!” Lita yelled, and Gazelle adjusted herself, holding the girl out to her father.

He took her into his arms and lifted her up before kissing her cheek and cradling her close. “I was so worried, sweetie! You just disappeared!” He rested his muzzle on her shoulder as he hugged her, looking into Gazelle’s eyes and mouthing ‘thank you’.

Gazelle grinned at the sight, and pulled a photo out from the after-concert ‘cool down’ bag slung over her shoulder. She signed it with a gold marker and handed it over.

“It was nice to meet you Lita.” Gazelle cooed. Her hoof drew a water bottle out of her bag and she began to unscrew it. As she did, two more mammals – a rabbit and a fox – ran up to her and the wolves.

“Sir! We were just about to tell you we didn’t see her on the south side of the plaza but… it looks like you found her!” The voice came from the bunny in a blue shirt and dark pants.

“Actually, Gazelle found her.” The father replied, chuckling.

“Well well well, maybe she should be the cop.” This time, the fox spoke. His tie was loose.

Gazelle’s eyes lit up as she realized who was standing in front of her. She waved to the two wolves as they left, then turned her attention to the bunny and the fox.

“You two,” She said reverently, “you’re the first bunny and the first fox police officers! I read about you in the paper!” Once more her hoof went into the bag on her side to fish out two more photos to sign.

“Officers Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde, at your service!” Judy exclaimed, stars in her eyes. She took one of the photos with both paws and bounced in excitement. Her little tail twitched.

Nick politely accepted his and chuckled at Judy’s display. “Careful carrots, you’re going to scare her away.” He teased.

Gazelle didn’t seem to mind. She was almost excited as Judy. “I always wanted to be a police officer when I was a little girl!” Her enthusiasm was contagious – her tail bounced side to side, rather like Judy’s.

Judy’s eyes went wide. “…really? You too? Nick! I’m just like Gazelle!” She grabbed the fox and shook him. He went with it for a moment, before putting a paw on her shoulder.

“Carrots. Please. Save some of that energy for the walk home. So what’s next for you, if you don’t mind my asking, Gazelle? You staged a protest – good stuff by the way – you held a free concert in the plaza…”

Gazelle smiled to herself. Even she could see the chemistry between these two. She thought for a moment, then shrugged. It was obvious.

“I’ll do what I’ve always done: let the world hear my voice.”


End file.
